Ed Waffle

Another great reason to live in New York--lots of free stuff you can't get in the provinces for a prince's ransom. What a great series. I would think that Joan Acocella and other critics will get a good size audience. We saw the Limon troupe dance "Dark Elegies" several years ago and it looked as if it had been made for them. The "Kindertotenlieder" is such a complete work of art in itself that I was at first worried that using it with dance would detract from the impact both of the songs and of the dancing. We had seen it only once before as part of an evening by a regional French company, the Le Ballet du Capitole of Toulouse. It wasn't the best way to see it for the first time, although the French company (on pointe) carried it off respectably. The Limon presentation, though, was electric. It was obvious that they had really internalized both the music and the movement so that technique became secondary. Tudor's understanding of Mahler's music must have been profound. Working through the score at the piano, as Mary J has reported, obviously worked for him. I would think that Tudor had a conception of what he wanted to accomplish, although probably not specifically how to accomplish it, before he began work with the score. Was there any discussion of how Tudor worked in this case--did he leave notes, for example, or have discussions with people who recalled them? One would really love to know if he was visualizing certain movements and series of movement as he worked through the score or whether he tried to learn the music from the inside out and then let it help to inspire his choreogaphy. Or if he did something else altoghether. Thanks for the report on a very intriguing lecture--it certainly a distiguised panel. I have been listening to Janet Baker with Barbirolli and the Halle Orchestra do "Kindertotenlieder" while typing this--she is another artist who really understood this work.

I discovered Ballet Alert through alt.arts.ballet, which I discovered through an article in "Dance" magazine sometime in 1996 or 1997. Since I didn't have access to newsgroups then, I spent a few months reading the aab archives that were then on a server in NYC--perhaps the NY Public Library? Alexandra was a regular poster at aab and she wrote about reviving BalletAlert--which was, I think, first written about in a tongue in cheek article in the NYT or Washington Post. There may be a pointer to that article somewhere. One of the nicest small details of BalletAlert was our "guardian ballerina" (Sylvia, I think) who still graces most pages. There was a very well mannered but very determined revolt when Alexandra eliminated her during a site redesign. The first BalletTalk board that I recall was PostCards--there were probably fewer posts in a week at that time then there are in a day now. But they worked and grew into this. I was very much taken by the attitude here from the beginning. Just to name a few, Leigh was and is a working choreographer; Victoria had been a soloist with the ABT; rg is one of the most respected dance writers in the country as is Nanatchka. What was most surprising was that people who were real experts, who had spent years learning about ballet were also often the most patient in dealing with questions they might have heard hundreds of times or with outrageously incorrect statements by people who thought they knew something. Like me, for example. Not at all like th cut and thrust that characterizes the opera boards. While BalletAlert has evolved one thing that hasn't changed has been the dedication, unfailing good humor and quiet intelligence of Alexandra. I imagine running an operation like this is difficult, time consuming and often quite frustrating--but it is has been here day after day and year after year, possibly to the surprise of its founder. One way to thank Alexandra is, as has been noted here, to subscribe to both publications, give subscriptions to favorite teachers, to students who many not know about them, or to local libraries. Or just send a donation.

Point your browser to http://us.imdb.com/Details?0041991 Ignore the cast list--I have no idea who they are, but may be stage names of the singers because it was a film. The names of the singers are shown on the copy of the video box. Bastianni, Gencer, Del Monaco and Barbieri are among the royalty of Italian opera from the middle of the last century. Gencer was Turkish, but her career was mainly in Italy. Note also that the assistant director is Sergio Leone, who later became famous as director of the "spaghetti westerns", those over the top movies like "Fist Full of Dollars". But none of them were as over the top as Trovatore of course. I have seen it and recommend it, but with lots of reservations. The lighting is murky, there are on and off problems with sychronization and the acting is straight out of Opera Acting 101. The copy I have seen also lacks subtitles, so the viewer should be somewhat familiar with Trovatore. atm, if you saw it at the cinema, it probably looked and sounded a lot better than the tape that is currently circulating. All that said, it is still a peformance for the ages, with all four of the principals in their prime. Leyla Gencer had only about five really good years before her voice began its decline due to too many heavy Verdi roles (like the Leonora here) always done a full throttle. If you like Verdi singing from the so called Golden Age (which I do) and you can deal with the issues I raise above, it is worth seeing and, especially, hearing. Enrico Caruso famously said that all you need for a production of Trovatore was the four best singers in the world. These four may have been the best or at least tied for first place among the Italian singers of the day.

While Bobbi was describing her reaction to Wheeldon's Carousel, theses terms also sum up my views of MacMillan's Manon. Its near-gynecological excesses go past bad taste and into pornography. The score itself is in bad taste, a pastiche of a number of Massenet's works that doesn't really start or end anywhere. -------- I would like to add another term to the general discussion, though: vulgar. I don't think it is necessarily the same as bad taste--while it may be a distinction without a difference, vulgarity is closer, I think, to tackiness. It is aware of its own lack of pretension and breeding and can even comment upon this lack--which may be a sign of pretension itself. Bad taste is doesn't know any better. One sign of true bad taste is the vociferousness with which it is held to be the only way to look at or deal with something. For example, not many people would consider J. S. Bach vulgar. But what about the transcriptions of Bach by Ferrucio Busoni for solo pianoof the Bach Toccata and Fuge in D minor? And what if it is played on a Bosendorfer grand by a soloist of the percussive school of playing? Is "romanticising" the quintessential baroque composer vulgar in itself, or would it become so based on how it is played. To go a step further there are the Leopold Stowkowski transcriptions of the same work. It is for a mid 20th century orchestra with steel strings,the A set at 440, horns with valves--none of which, one imagines, Bach could have imagined. This, it seems, is truly bad taste--with no reference to Historically Informed Performance (ugh!) necessary. As it happens, I have a recording of this work that I still play occasionally, but it sounds more like third rate movie music than anything Bach would recognize. If Bach-Busoni has been placed in the canon by a combination of long familiarity and the reputation of Busoni, Bach-Stowkowski is still considered (if thought of at all) as a party piece. But if one accepts Busoni, why not Stowkowski? I realize, by the way, that everyone knows Bach but fewer and fewer know Stowkowski. The best introduction to him is on the Chuck Jones cartoon "Long Haired Hare", in which Bugs Bunny, as the legendary conductor "Leopold" (no last name needed) putting a symphony orchestra through its paces and almost killing Elmer Fudd my making him hold a high note forever.

I think I would take Prokofiev's "R&J" complete score as one of the top five pieces of music, ballet or otherwise. I am listening to it a lot. I picked up another recording, Maazel with the Cleveland Orchestra from 1971, which is preferable to me in almost every way than the Gergiev/Kirov I first mentioned. In the past, "real" music for me was a pretty narrow range--Classical with a capital C, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and all that, especially the chamber music and especially the violin sonatas. When I began to listen to 20th century music, Prokofiev grabbed me immediately. But I always considered the ballet music of the modern Russian masters to be something for the theater, not for "serious" listening--in other words, I was a snob. But repeated exposure to R&J has opened my eyes (or actually ears). I wouldn't try to compare it to other symphonic type music of the same period, since I don't know much of it well, but in itself it is a wonderful piece of music that gets better the more one hears it. Your wish, apparently, is my command. The very knowledgeable rep at the record store pointed out a reissued budget disc of exactly the recording you mention--I am listening to it as I type this. It will take some getting used to, but it shows just how melodic R&J is.

Wednesday, March 5, marks the 50th anniversary of the death of Sergei Prokofiev. While there is never a bad time to listen to his music, I feel this might be an especially appropriate one. Three of his works (actually two and one half) have been in my CD player for the past few days: the second piano concerto in G minor, “Romeo and Juliet” and the orchestral suites which the composer reduced from “R&J”. “Romeo and Juliet” has been my favorite Shakespeare play for years, and the Prokofiev score has become the ballet music that I most love. “R&J” is the quintessential romance. Love and death are always present, finally at the same time. The hero and heroine are both young and beautiful. They meet and fall in love immediately. They are as star-crossed as it is possible to be, of course, and are doomed. But it is just the stupidity of others that causes their doom. There is no call to a higher duty as in “Antony and Cleopatra”, no incurable psychological flaw as in “The Winter’s Tale”, no intervention of unspeakable evil, as in “Othello”. There is nothing but the completely ingrained hatred of their families. The depth and terribly poignancy of the drama lies in the intensity of how the delightful agony of young love is portrayed and in the astonishing poetry that conveys it. It contains some of the most memorable and heartbreaking verse of the greatest master of English spoken theater. It is a story that begs to be set to music—Bellini, Berlioz (who hated Bellini’s opera), Gounod, Bernstein and many more. The claustrophobia of the drama, the alternating intense action followed by the sharpest longings of love create a structure in themselves. Prokofiev rose to the challenge and wrote what is for me the perfect ballet score to the perfect tragic love story. It has theatrical sweep and expressive power but also shows lyricism and grace. It is one of his most melodic works—while no one would call Prokofiev an arch-melodist (like, for example, Puccini) the gorgeous flood of melody in the balcony scene is worth hearing over and over. The recording of the entire ballet I have been listening to is by the Kirov Orchestra, led by Valery Gergiev, from 1991. The Kirov forces highlight the delicacy and shimmering beauty that is always present but do not ignore the sweeping arc of the story. The anticipation and longing of the thirteen-year-old heroine comes through, as does the deadly loutishness of the warring families. The Kirov musicians, one would think, have this music in their bones and this recording shows them at a very high level. The Orchestral Suites have been recorded quite often and still find a place on the concert stage. Prokofiev chose the most self-contained sections, then adapted them and arranged them in the order the thought best for listening. It can be a bit nerve wracking if you know the ballet (which most here will) since the order of the music does not follow the story line at all. It is still wonderful to hear, but needs to be thought of as separate and distinct from the ballet score itself. The second piano concerto was my introduction to this Russian master, about a zillion years ago. For those old enough to remember vinyl LPs, it was one side of a record—one that I wore out the grooves playing. There is a lot to be said for approaching ballet scores as music in themselves—I have become more aware of this recently. “Romeo and Juliet” is a great place to start.

Wow--now that is an example of a tough house! We stopped going to The Nutcracker about a zillion years ago because the noise level in the auditorium was just unbearable--this was in Chicago, where it was done in conjunction with the Tribune Charities. What can be worse (if that's possible) than very young children at the ballet--at least the ones with irresponsible parents--are the slightly older children at the opera. A Hansel and Gretel matinee is one thing, but parents often bring their pre-teens to performances of (for example) Mozart's Magic Flute. But once the dragon is slain and Papageno has the lock put on his lips by the Three Ladies (all of which happens in the first several minutes after the overture) there isn't much to entertain a nine year old--or at least the ones I have been seated near. Children of singers, like dancers, though, are very well behaved. I was once at a midweek performance of La Traviata here in Motown and happened to be seated next to a father and daughter--the daughter seemed to be 8 or 9 years old. I was a bit surprised that anyone would bring such a young person to what is a very adult work--thematically it would be rated "R" by the MPAA. It turned out it was the husband and daughter of a member of the chorus who was singing Annina, Violetta's maid, her first solo role with the company

Oh, that Charlotte Gainsbourg! Oops.

I think it is the right size for New York City's "other" opera house (the Met seats about 3800). It could be designed to be intimate enough so that Mozart and Handel works aren't lost on a huge stage but still large enough for the Triumphal March in Aida. At the same time it wouldn't be necessary to sell quite so many tickets--3800 seats is a lot to fill week in and week out for months.

silvy-- She is with the Ballets de Monte Carlo which presented programs here in Detroit a few years ago. http://www.balletsdemontecarlo.com/present...l?danseurs.html If you follow the above url (may have to cut and paste it) you may get past the flash ridden opening pages. I just realized that in one of pictures she looks a lot like the actress Charlotte Gainsborough (another of my favorite women performing artists).

I recall Susan Jaffe from just a few years ago in a riveting mad scene--but she had inhabited the role so completely that I was completely taken with her even before that. When the hunting horn sounded, heralding the entrance of the royal group, I felt horrible--"Oh, no, she is going to be hurt." I can remember actually wishing that the King and Queen wouldn't make their entrance, allowing Gisele/Jaffe to remain happy. The mad scene was enthralling--at one point she appear to stumble for a split-second on the sword before she picked it up. Heart in the mouth time, at least for this member of the audience. Jaffe's Gisele was one of those extended. oments in the theatre when I had to remind myself to breathe.

Included on my list: Natalia Makarova Susan Jaffe Bernice Coppieters--She actually may be my favorite. However, I have only seen her in two productions--an excellent Romeo and Juliet and an excerable Cinderalla so it is difficult to judge against dancers I have seen much more often. Karen Kain--Also have seen her in only two productions, Swan Lake and Don Quixote.

Craft is an intriguing guy--not that Stravinsky is not, of course. I recently read "Stravinsky; chronicle of a friendship, 1948-1971", in which Craft not only quotes Stravinsky at length and seemingly verbatim but also drops names as if he was being paid by the reference. A lot of what Craft wrote may be seen by future generations as observations of not only the musical scene at the time he wrote but also the larger cultural and social milieu in which he (through Stravinsky) moved. Craft's prose is sometimes ornate but it is well worth reading.

It probably can't be solved in the short term. John von Rhien beats the usual dead horse, that the greedy musicians are keeping this wonderful music from the airwaves and that we are all the poorer for it. The real issue is that the money just isn't there for the broadcasts. The sponsors, two airlines, have cut them off. Since the airlines in question, United and American, are in bad financial shape with United teetering on the edge of bankrupcty it is not surprising.

I had heard that "Hustler" magazine was purchased in New York City in order to hide copies of "The New York Post" being read surreptitiously in public places.

I had heard that "Hustler" magazine was purchased in New York City in order to hide copies of "The New York Post" being read surreptitiously in public places.

I wish "The Observer" all the best--New York City needs more newspapers--but "The New York Times" makes something news simply by publishing it. The reach of its cultural coverage extends far beyond its local delivery area (as does its editorial page) so Barnes was going after a target that not only the dance insiders would know about but also a much larger audience would as well.

I wish "The Observer" all the best--New York City needs more newspapers--but "The New York Times" makes something news simply by publishing it. The reach of its cultural coverage extends far beyond its local delivery area (as does its editorial page) so Barnes was going after a target that not only the dance insiders would know about but also a much larger audience would as well.

Farrell Fan wrote: "...yet again we have that tired cliche of operatic set designers -- a stage dominated by a huge staircase" While there are some opera where stairs are appropriate--"Lucia" for example, for the mad scene, "Romeo and Juliet"--gratuitous stairs have infested opera stages for a number of years. What seems to be replacing the stairs, though, are chairs. Hanging from the walls, from the stage ceiling, tipped over on the floor--chairs as symbols of something. But not chairs to sit on. Odd, but that's the world of oprera design in this century. and further "What was unprecedented about the dance, in my experience, was that I heard not a single embarrassed giggle in the audience while it was going on." The production team must have done an excellent job (not to mention Ms. Lappalainen)--or perhaps NYCO audiences are more sophisticated than in the past. Often when the Dance of the Seven Veils begins, one can hear a lot of emphatic "clicks" as wives shut opera glasses that husbands are opening for the first time that evening. Regarding the artist who portrays Salome, Richard Strauss had imagined 'a 16-year-old princess with the voice of Isolde'. Since there aren't many of those paragons available, a dancer often substitutes during the Dance of the Seven Veils. "Take it off" is better than a number of things that could have been yelled--"Put it back on" for example. Opera audiences seem to be more vocally demonstrative than others and for "Salome" especially. It is done as one huge, 80-plus minute act that begins at a very high dramatic level and goes into the dramatic stratosphere. The tension in the audience by the end (brimming bladders notwithstanding) is very high. The only other operatic experience that matches it is when "The Flying Dutchman" is given without intermission.

This type of insanity happens occasionally and never makes sense. If Canadian Stage accomplished what it seems to have wanted by refusing comps, one of two things would happen: Either the CBC would pay for the tickets, which would not be that great a hardship, or the offerings of Canadian Stage would go unreviewed by the CBC. Since one result is ineffectual and the other detrimental, there must be something else going on. I would think it would be closer to Ben Stevenson's hissy fit in Houston than anything else. It may well be that Martin Bragg, the artistic director was really offended by something the reviewer wrote, told his PR director " do something about this", and this is the result. Or Lynn Stocking may have offended someone else with power in CanStage--a member of the board, a leading actor, whomever. One thing that will not happen is what CanStage wants--a different critic assigned to their shows. Unless things like that are different in Canada, where the CBC is part of the government.

With all due respect, if a company is surviving it is doing the right thing. Particularly true now as the recession lengthens and funding dries up. Living in a ballet wasteland, I would love to have a decent company in Motown that did nothing but full length classics, especially if it had a good music director who could inspire the freelance musicians in the pit when they play Prokofiev, Tchiakowsky and others.

We saw the Pittsburgh Ballet "Dracula", originally choreographed by (I think) Ben Stevenson. The Pittsburgh Ballet is a terrific company. There was a lot not to like about it, but there was an excellent mad scene danced for Svetlana danced by Maribel Modrono--I think her sister danced the character with the mad scene at another performance we saw. Redfield was also a character that could come alive on stage. If you remove all the fluff--carriages, "is it over yet" pas de deux, Flying by Foy, strobe lights, smoke and a not insignificant amout of cape flapping, there isn't much left. It might be dramatically more sound if it were "Svetlana and Redfield" with the Count and Flora in the background. However, if it keeps the lights on and the dancers paid, go for it.

This might as well be a 21st century work. "Woyzeck", by Robert Wilson, music by Tom Waits, based on the play "Woyzeck" by Georg Buchner would be a good way to bill it, especially since a good bit of the text was cut int order to find time for Waits' songs. I have never been a fan of Waits--well perhaps for a few hours many years ago, but one of his songs goes a long way--but the reviewer was: "In his early days, when he growled out bleary bar-room ballads about booze and broads, I was a fan of Waits, but he has become increasingly pretentious in recent years, probably as a result of his frequent collaborations with the dreadful Wilson." "Woyzeck" is one of these works that can be everything to everybody, so it will probably survive this onslaught. It was written in 1837 but the manuscript was not discovered until the late 19th century. Lots of people claimed it as a precurser of their own plays. Marxists like Georg Lucas hailed it as anticipating dilectical materialism and the hopeless position of the proletariat in capitalist society. Brecht and other Expressionists saw it as the basis for their own anti-naturalist style. Psychoanalytic critics see "Woyzeck" as an accurate description of paranoid/schizophrenia. And there is the opea "Wozzeck" music and libretto by Alban Berg, by which it is best known in the United States. Berg attended the first Viennese performance of Buchner's play in 1914.

The thread “What was the first ballet you attended” had a number of intriguing posts: Kate B wrote: “Since then I do like to go to the ballet by myself sometimes. I went to the Royal Opera House by myself for the first time two Christmases ago to see Swan Lake with Darcey Bussell and that was also very exciting indeed. There is something great about 'discovering' ballets and companies and venues all by yourself.” This can be a lot of fun. One can concentrate completely on the opera or ballet at hand and not on the “eventness” of attending as a couple or part of a group. Also can leave early or go backstage late without having to coordinate with others. It would be more fun if there were ladies with sweets generally available. Victoria Leigh wrote: “Ballet has been my life ever since. It was before that, but I didn't know it until then” Glad you brought that up. The first time I saw a ballet was “Swan Lake”, ABT, Ivan Nagy and the Divine Miss NM, the Auditorium Theater in Chicago, probably 1969 or 1970. The music was familiar, of course, but the movement onstage was quite new to me. But I loved it so much from the very beginning (and was totally hooked by the time the curtain fell at the end) that it was as if there was a Kantian a priori predisposition to respond to classical ballet. I didn’t have to learn to love it—only to see it once to know that I loved it. Svemaus wrote: “During the performance but especially before it began, I felt sort of excited or even nervous, as I always do no matter if I’m about to see ballet, opera or a play; I guess it’s just that special feeling when you sit in the theatre and try to think of what’s going to happen and then the lights go out and the artists enter the stage. That is always a great moment.” An electric moment of anticipation—program read, cough drops unwrapped, 'who is wearing what' checked out and commented upon...and the orchestra tunes to the “A” and we move into a different time and place. It is great to know that the magic is about to begin, even if it will be the fourth or fifth time that week for a particular opera or ballet. I love it. And Svemaus, please post your impressions to the board of ballets you attend. They will be most welcome.

Well, I can. Pavarotti, Domingo and that other guy. Unfortunately I can't think of very many people (actually none) who bought a ticket and went to the opera based on a concert or CD. There was a concert here in Motown at Tiger Stadium in 1998 that the Michigan Opera Theater used to raise a ton of money by convincing the Tenors to do a dress rehearsal at the Detroit Opera House in front of invited guests. People were invited based on contributions to the MOT, so they did well. Which is a fine thing--opera is a ridiculously expensive art form.